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I stood at the edge of her property, maybe twenty meters away. I didn't say her name. I didn't pull out my phone to record. I just listened.

I walked up the path. The air changed—cooler, wetter, smelling of moss and rot and ferns. And then I heard it. A guitar. Not a recording. Not a ghost. Live, wavering, a melody I recognized from the CD-R: "Underground Rain." Searching for- remu suzumori in-All CategoriesM...

It began as a flicker of impulse, a late-night thought that burrowed under the skin like a splinter. The search bar glowed on my laptop screen, a cold, expectant rectangle in the dark of my apartment. My fingers, acting before my brain could veto them, typed the words: I stood at the edge of her property,